


Entrusted, Exploited, Embraced

by footlights



Category: Short Circuit (1986), Short Circuit 2
Genre: Drama, Friendship, Gen, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-21
Updated: 2019-11-29
Packaged: 2020-03-08 21:36:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18903118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/footlights/pseuds/footlights
Summary: Post SC2. Newton and Stephanie race to the big city upon learning about the near-fatal attack on Johnny Five. As the entire country celebrates its first robotic citizen, scientists at Nova realize their rogue creation is still on the loose.





	1. Chapter 1

It was late, but it was not dark when Newton Crosby arrived in the city. 

After two years living on a ranch in Montana, it was absolutely blinding. An endless series of lit skyscrapers, flashing theaters, and neon signs obliterated the night sky. He rubbed his eyes, turning away from the window to check on Stephanie. They were seated in the back of a taxi cab. She was staring out her window on the opposite side of the car, her face angled away from him. He had almost no experience reading women, but he was getting better at deciphering her. 

Their hands were entwined on the gray leather seat between them. The car slowed, pulling up to the curb, and he tightened his grip. She squeezed back so hard, he lost feeling in his fingertips. 

“Here ya go,” the driver said, his voice raspy. “The new place with the robot.” 

“Thanks.” Newton craned his neck to see the Input Inc. name on the building from where they were parked. He shook his head at the cartoonish rendering of Number Five on display for all to see. His discomfort mounted when he shifted again to see how much money he owed the cabbie. They had been on the road for over an hour, coming straight from the airport.

He shuffled through his wallet, murmuring to Stephanie. “I don't think...” 

She pulled some bills out of her purse. “If we put it together, we'll be fine.” 

It added up to enough. The tip wasn't especially generous, but the driver accepted it without pulling a face. He was even gracious enough to help them unload their suitcases from the trunk. He set them down on the sidewalk and wished both “fishes out of water” luck before he drove away.

“You see? Not all the people in big cities are jerks.” Newton said, ending a debate Stephanie had started on the plane. He saw her bend down to pick up her suitcase and waved her off. “I got it.”

She eyed him skeptically. “You don't have to prove anything to me, you know.” 

“What do you mean?” Newton took one suitcase in each hand, which should have resulted in an even distribution of weight, but Stephanie's suitcase was much heavier than his own. His body sagged to the left. It would be a struggle to make it to the building entrance, though he wasn't about to admit that. 

“It's not a big deal that you couldn't pay for the cab alone. I couldn't either. You don't have to play the brute strength card to show me what a caveman you are.” 

“I'm not playing any cards.” He hobbled along, gritting his teeth. His arms were already starting to ache. Under his breath, he added, “You always talk like I'm trying to manipulate you.” 

If she heard, she didn't let on. She hurried ahead to the glass doors in front of them and held one open. It matched the building, also sporting the Number Five logo. As Newton crept through, she studied it. “I can't believe this is real.” 

“Me either. I never thought Ben would sell us out.” 

“I know.”

Newton traveled farther into what appeared to be the beginnings of a showroom. It was rectangular with two oblong skylights in the ceiling and a white tile floor. It was almost completely bare, save for a desk with a telephone on it. There was also a nameplate beside the phone, but the chair behind the desk was vacant.

Stephanie came up beside him. “Hello? Is there anyone in here?”

There was no answer. Together, they moved toward a hallway at the back of the room. Just as they passed the desk, however, a loud click stopped them. A sliding door rolled out from the wall by itself and slammed shut, closing off the entrance to the hall.

“Welcome to Input Incorporated!” 

The voice was unmistakable. Newton dropped the suitcases. 

“Johnny?” Stephanie said, spinning around. 

Newton began searching too, but there was no robot. He spotted a speaker mounted in the corner above the front desk and pointed it out to her. Number Five's voice, clearly coming from the identified source, continued: 

“We are closed for the evening, but please return tomorrow between the hours of 2 and 6 PM for someone to provide assistance.” 

The speaker buzzed with static for a second longer. There was another click, and then silence. 

“A motion-activated security system,” Newton marveled, impressed. He crouched down next to the desk to find the mechanism that set it off. “I used to build --” 

“Excuse me!” 

Newton stood up.

The door to the hall was open again, and a man in an expensive-looking suit was standing in the entryway. When he raised his hand in greeting, the lights in the ceiling glinted off a golden wristwatch. “You guys wouldn't happen to be friends of Benny's, would ya?”

“Ben? Yeah.” 

“Who are you supposed to be, Jack?” Stephanie spat. She drew closer to the stranger, glaring at him.

The man raised his other hand, opening his palms to them. He grinned in a way he probably meant to be reassuring, but it was too wolf-like to be any help. “Easy. I'm Fred, Fred Ritter. I'm the owner of this fine business you see here.” He seemed to be finished speaking, and then, probably remembering they knew Ben, added, “One of the part-owners, anyway. And you are?”

“Stephanie Speck.” 

“Newton Crosby.” 

Fred took turns shaking their hands. His grip on Newton's was firm but slick with sweat. “So your old partner is my new partner.” He laughed, “Good old Benny, huh? Come on, the party's downstairs.” 

Newton exchanged glances with Stephanie. What party?

She gripped his arm. “Wait,” she hissed. She waited until Fred had started down the hall. “How do we know where he's taking us?” 

Newton was hesitant to follow Fred too, but there wasn't much time to think it over. It wasn't like they could find their way without him. From the outside, the building looked huge, and they'd already managed to set off one alarm. He shrugged his shoulders and whispered, “He does know Ben.” 

“He could be lying. He looks like a liar.” The way Stephanie said liar made it sound like a curse. 

Newton never considered lying to be especially awful before he met her. After, he discovered that in her eyes, there was nothing worse.

She turned back.

“Hey, hold on a second,” Newton said, thinking she was going to leave. He stopped protesting when he saw her kneel down to grab her suitcase. He had completely forgotten about their bags. 

Nearly running, they took off after Fred. There was no danger of losing him. He was standing by an elevator straight ahead, in plain sight, waiting for them. “Oh, didn't know you still had all your stuff with you. Let me just throw those in a closet or something.” He took both bags, his arm only dropping slightly when he took Stephanie's. “I, uh, like the rainbows,” he commented, smirking at the colorful stickers she had added to the black fabric.

“Yeah, thanks.” She didn't crack a smile. 

Fred strode away with the luggage. He remained in plain view, stopping at a door near the end of the corridor. He hung both bags quickly and made his way back to them without any opportunity for funny business.

Newton felt more comfortable by the time they stepped inside the elevator. That feeling vanished the moment the doors opened, the sounds of Little Richard reached his ears, and he saw just how big a party it was. He trailed reluctantly after him and Stephanie, casting fleeting glances around the crowded basement. It was unfinished. Strangers wound around support beams and leaned against cinder block walls. When he looked down at his feet, abruptly hot and queasy, the floor beneath them was bare cement. 

“Hey, Newton!” Ben's familiar accent stood out from the din. “Hello!” 

Newton tried to make sense of the jumble of people before him, and then did a double take when he spotted his friend. Ben was dancing. Not in the confused, spastic way he had seen him attempt after a few too many cocktails, but actually swaying to the rhythm and keeping the beat. More surprising than even that, however, was the realization that he was not dancing alone. Ben was holding the hands of a girl. A pretty girl. 

Newton waved, dumbstruck.

“Do you see Number Five?” Stephanie spoke into his ear at full volume. “That sleazeball told me this is for him and Ben. They became U.S. citizens this morning.”

“They what?” 

“Yeah, he said the press was all over it.” Her voice turned mocking, sarcastic. “It was great publicity for their company.” 

The song ended. Newton felt suddenly detached from his surroundings. Being squished elbow to elbow with people who had tired of dancing didn't bother him. It was like Stephanie's words placed him back in his element, tucked away behind a computer, facing a project that had just revealed a fatal flaw. In those situations, he had no other option but to withdraw all of his investment, salvage what he could, and dismantle the rest. 

He looked for his robot. How hard could it be to spot a machine in a mass of flesh and blood? The dim ceiling lights bounced off the top of something in the midst of a dense group, but it shined too brightly to have been him, more likely a piece of jewelry. The metal on the S.A.I.N.T. robots was specifically designed not to reflect much light to camouflage them better in combat. 

Drumbeats from the next song began to pound from the speakers, and most of the people sandwiched around Newton and Stephanie decided not to take a break from dancing after all. Ben used the opportunity to make his way over to them, keeping hold of one of his dance partner's hands to bring her along with him. A grin stretched wide across his face. It was all Newton could do not to duck when he reached them and threw an arm around his shoulders. 

“Newton! And Stephanie also! I was not knowing you were coming here. Oh, today is a day to outshine all days.”

Newton considered responding with an Indian insult Ben taught him shortly after they met, but that was a long time ago. He would probably butcher the pronunciation and embarrass himself. 

Ben took his silence as an invitation to say more. He reached for the girl he'd brought with him, and she took his hand again. “Please, I would like you both to meet my very special friend, Sandy. Sandy, these are my good friends from Montana.” 

“Hi, it's great to meet you guys. Ben's told me so much.”

“Right. Same here,” Stephanie said dryly. As Sandy's smile fell, she rounded on Ben. “Where is Number Five? What did you do to him?” 

He staggered back a few steps, his brows ratcheting up on his forehead. “I have done nothing. I – I – the thieves, they did a large number on him, but he is now repaired, completely operational.” He looked to Newton. “Did you not receive my letter?”

The blank confusion on Ben's face, the obvious belief that this was all a misunderstanding and he had done nothing wrong, made something give way inside of Newton. The music faded to a whisper in the back of his head. His entire body felt like a hand crank, winding tighter and tighter the longer he stood still. It was unbearable to keep it turning. Tension shot down his arms. His hands froze into fists. Ben's face was all he could see, and he let go.

The first punch landed a hair away from Ben's jaw. He jerked out of range at the very last moment, hollering the insult Newton had just been struggling to think of in his native tongue.

“Why --” Newton swung again – “do you think --” tiny bits of sweat sprayed his knuckles – “we're here?”

“Newton, please! Newton!” Ben moved frantically to avoid the blows. He skirted around him, darting to the left just enough to save himself from being hit. 

Newton rotated with him. After being bullied for all of his childhood, he joined the boxing team in high school to defend himself. He was rusty, but he mirrored each deflection, turning farther and farther around until they had shifted a full ninety degrees. Their positions were reversed. Ben had his back to the wall, and Newton charged forward to corner him. 

Ben retreated in a rush, forced to back up. The wall collided with his heels. He ran out of space to flee and stumbled, dropping to the floor. His hands flew up to shield his face. “No! Lower your calm!” 

Some small part of him could hear Stephanie yelling at him to stop, but it seemed so far away. It wasn't until someone caught one of his arms from behind him and bent it against his back that he started to come to his senses. “Easy! What the hell are you doing, pal?” It was Fred. When Newton tried to jerk free, he came forward and pulled his forearm back into his chest. A jolt of pain tore through Newton's shoulder. 

“Benny, I thought you said this guy was a friend of yours.” 

“He is. Was. Previously.” Ben peered up at Newton, looking very disoriented. He had Sandy kneeling beside him. She took hold of his arm as if she would need to yank him out of Newton's reach at any second.

“Is there a phone upstairs? I'll call the police,” a strange voice offered. 

Newton looked around as best he could with Fred restraining him. All of the people close by had formed a circle around them, giving them a wide berth. They were staring. A few had inched toward them a little, as though they wanted to get involved but were unsure what to do. The woman who had spoken was among them. The music continued playing, however, uninterrupted and blasting, and it became clear that most of the party goers were unaware anything had happened at all. On the other side of the room, people remained in their social clusters, totally absorbed in their own concerns.

Fred didn't answer right away. After a beat, he said, “Nah, I've got it under control. Nobody's hurt – we'll let it slide. Everyone go enjoy the free pizza.” 

“Wouldn't want the bad press for your company.” Stephanie sounded bitter. 

Newton realized then that this could be his chance to get justice. “No, call the police!” he shouted at the back of the woman just as she was turning away. “Tell them they're endangering the life of my robot. Getting him to do what they want and using him to turn a profit. Tell them I think they've got him trapped somewhere.” 

“Jesus Christ! Cool it already.” Fred grasped Newton's chin and turned it in the direction he wanted him to look. “J. Five is right over there, surrounded by his admiring public. He's free as a bowl of soup with a bug in it. Been the talk of the town ever since he brought down those diamond schmucks.”

There was a pause in the music. Before the song could launch back into its chorus, Fred shouted, “Hey, Five! Better get over here. Got some people who need to see you.”

Newton saw Number Five's head, plated in gold (gold?!), extend up from the center of the largest group in the room. He looked over the heads of everyone surrounding him, his eyes zooming out from their default position to employ their full scope. His lip light flashed when he spotted them, but they were too far apart for Newton to make out what he was saying.

Stephanie crowded in beside him, stretching sideways until she was almost in front of him, trying to occupy the same space. He heard her sudden intake of breath, and then she visibly relaxed. “Oh, thank God.” 

Number Five's head lowered back down. Newton could just see the top of it as he extracted himself from the group. People began to make way, shuffling aside. It took a good minute before Newton could pick his voice out from the crowd. “Wide load coming through. Pardon me, sorry...” 

“Johnny!” Stephanie bounded forward and threw her arms around the tubes serving as his neck. “Oh my God, I've missed you.”

“Stephanie!”

“How are you? Are you okay?” 

Number Five nodded with enthusiasm. “I am better than okay. So many improvements! Benjamin fixed me up with totally new parts, I am recognized member of America, and own one third of this up-and-coming business.” He looked around the basement. “Am not sure which third.” He returned his attention to Stephanie, who was smiling, and his arms came up to hug her again. “Am very happy to see you.”

Newton looked from Number Five to Ben, who had just gotten to his feet. They made eye contact. He didn't want to say anymore in front of everyone, but that didn't stop him from thinking. You greedy traitor.

“Do you believe me now?” Ben asked. “You will not wrestle me to the floor?” 

“I won't if it means I can have my arm back.” 

Fred released him. “Deal.” 

Newton staggered forward. The sudden change knocked him off balance. He groaned, the sound growing louder when he attempted to stretch his arm. It felt like hundreds of mini explosions were being set off beneath the skin of his shoulder, detonating in time with his pulse. 

“Newton, you are injured,” Number Five observed, concerned. He whirred closer to them. “Frederick, why harm Newton? Was it an accident? Were you arm wrestling, doing yoga, playing Twister?” 

“Ah, yes.” Ben was quick to cut in. “It was some such game like that.” 

Newton was surprised to see that Number Five didn't appear to be convinced by Ben's answer. His head tilted to the side as if he was puzzled, maybe even suspicious. He looked at Fred, who was straightening his suit, and then scanned over Ben. When he turned to Newton, his eyes lingered on his hand. Newton glanced down to see that his knuckles were bleeding from striking the wall.

“Was not a game.” 

“No, it wasn't,” Stephanie agreed. She peered over at Newton, speaking to him just as much as Number Five. “But that doesn't matter right now. We're just glad you're okay.” She took one three-fingered hand and tried to coax him away. “Now, let's dance.” 

Number Five stared at Newton. “But I don't understand. I want to know what happened. Newton has not spoken two words.” 

“Johnny, come on. You'll have plenty of time to talk later. Besides, aren't you supposed to be celebrating?” She leaned in and kissed the side of his head.

“Hey, watch the gold,” Fred said. “You'll smudge him up.” 

Number Five made an ooooo-weeee! sound, the flaps above his eyes waggling in excitement. “Alright, Newton. You clean up. Get some rest. Steph and I are gonna cut a rug.” 

Newton watched them make their way toward the center of the floor. The farther away they got, the harder it was to keep track of them. He glanced down at his hands, bending and straightening his injured fingers. It stung, but he didn't think anything was broken. 

“....shouldn't let them ruin your big night... I made those mix tapes special for this. I put all our favorites on there. We're talking all the really greats...” 

Newton caught pieces of things Sandy was saying to Ben. Listening brought with it a wavering twinge of guilt. He knew, from Ben's letters, just how hard he had worked and how important it was to him to become an American citizen. He wasn't aware that he achieved that goal, or that he decided to bring Number Five in on it and make history while he was at it, but that didn't change the fact that he soured what should have been a great memory for him. Maybe Stephanie was right. Maybe he could let it go for now.

“Newton. Friend.” 

He turned and found Ben standing beside him. 

“I thought we should make it up.” Ben extended his hand to him. “We are good now, yes?”

Just as he reached to take it, the flash of a camera stopped him cold.

The crowd had completely reshaped itself around Number Five and Stephanie. They were frozen in dance hold, Stephanie staring wide-eyed at the man who took the picture. There was another flash, and then another, and a voice yelling, “Mr. Five! Over here, Mr. Five!” Newton saw laminated cards pinned to their suits and knew the cameras they were using looked way too pricey for commercial use. They were hired to do this.

“Photographers?” He snatched his hand away, wiping his face. “Nova has got to be after us now.”


	2. Chapter 2

Newton spent the rest of the night looking over his shoulder. He expected every brawny businessman he saw to grab a weapon from their pocket and descend on Number Five like a pissed off wasp, but that never happened. Stephanie shouted at the photographers to knock it off, and they made a show of tucking away their cameras, but one gesture from Fred was all it took to start them flashing again whenever Number Five was far enough away from her.

  
He and Stephanie checked into the cheapest motel they could find within walking distance of the factory. Ben, Fred, and Number Five all tried to persuade them to stay in their new accommodations, but Newton wanted nothing to do with anything paid for with that money. He was too angry to regret his decision, even if he had to resort to using a nearly-maxed out credit card to afford it, and even when he saw the condition of the room.

  
"Okay, look, what Ben and his new scum-o buddy are doing is wrong, but this is disgusting." Stephanie lifted a long, black hair off her untouched pillow with tweezers. Her nose wrinkled in revulsion.

  
"Doesn't smell as bad as your hoard of rescued animals."

  
She slapped his arm. "My animals do not stink. You don't get to take it out on them just because you're mad. Your dad left enough land for them all to have an acre to themselves."

  
"We might have to sell some of it soon." He looked down and rubbed his hand, feeling every punch he threw earlier and then some.

  
"Hey." Her finger caught under his chin, urging his face up. She waited until their eyes met. "I'd rather live in the poor house with you than live knowing you went back to Nova."

  
He snagged her hand, kissed her knuckles, and pulled away. With a sigh, he flopped back on his side of the bed. His eyes squeezed shut. He heard the plink of her tweezers being set on the nightstand. The darkness he was staring into turned a deeper black when she switched off the lamp, but it still didn't look right. The streetlights shone into the solitary window. Even at three in the morning, car horns were blaring below.

  
He rolled onto his side. "Do you think Number Five will come back with us when we go?"

  
"That's up to him. But I'm sure he will. I mean…" she yawned, "we're his home."

  
Newton had to fight for sleep. Every time he crossed the border into dreams, Skroeder was waiting for him.

  
The next morning, they met up with Ben and Fred in front of Input Incorporated. Ben smiled uncertainly when he saw them. There were dark circles beneath his eyes, and the skinny tie around his neck was crooked, like it was done in a rush. Beside him, Fred wore the face of a zombie. He had a blank, halfway-there expression as he brought a cup of to-go coffee to his mouth. Number Five wasn't with them.  
Newton began to search the steady stream of people walking past on their way to work.

  
"He is visiting the newsstand located across the street, over there." Ben motioned with his head to indicate where he meant. "It is how he starts every day."

  
Newton looked over and immediately spotted Number Five positioned in front of the stand. There was an old man running it who appeared to be talking to him. At length, he reached behind him and grabbed a newspaper, sliding it across the counter. Number Five snatched up the paper as soon as it was within reach. He must have already paid for it with something because the man tipped his hat and let the robot go without anything further.

  
"Morning!" Number Five jolted over the curb on his treads, spotting Newton and Stephanie.

  
"Good morning."

  
"You got any good news for me today?" Fred asked.

  
"Hmm. Let me see." Number Five lifted the paper and began to read. His eyes scanned the pages from top to bottom at lightning speed, mumbling the words so fast, they became an indecipherable string of nonsense to everyone else. He finished the first section in a matter of seconds and looked to Fred. "There is a lot of news! But it's not good."

  
"Well, what's the bad news?"

  
He made a sound as if he was clearing his throat. His voice altered to emulate a newscaster. "Sudden shifts in a nuclear reaction at a plant in Seneca, Illinois have prompted an inquiry into whether a whole class of nuclear plants is vulnerable to a dangerous condition that engineers had predicted was impossible. The danger of forest fires is great this summer because— "

  
"Oh, I don't care about any of that." Fred cut in. "I just wanna know about my stocks."

  
"Oh." Number Five made to drop the top section on the sidewalk, but, after a glance at Stephanie, refolded it and tucked it behind all the others still in his hands instead. He devoured the rest of the paper without pause. When he finished, he said, "They're up."

  
"Yes! Fred here's gonna buy a new pair of shoes."

  
Ben looked down at the polished black pair currently on his feet. "Did you not just buy those fine leather ones when you purchased your new suit?"

  
"Yeah, yeah, I did, but it's an expression, see? I'm not actually going to—" He shook his head. "Forget it. Let's get moving. We got people to do and stuff to see."

  
He led the way into the building, holding the glass doors open for the group. Newton came in just in front of Stephanie and Number Five. He thought the company logo looked like a stain on Fred's shirt, held in front of his chest like that. Once everyone was inside, Fred entered and let the door swing closed.

  
"Remember, Five, I booked you for that talk at the Hall of Science in an hour."

  
"In an hour? But Frederick, if I do that, I will have very little time with Stephanie and Newton. I wanted to show them around the city. Take them to see the parks, museums, the giant bookstore!"

  
"Lucky for you the Hall of Science is a museum. And maybe, uh, Newton here could go with you." Fred turned to face him. "You're a science guy, right?"

  
"Uh... robotics engineer, actually."

  
"Yeah, that's it. Benny said you built these guys together." He poked a thumb at Number Five.

  
Newton's mouth set in a tight, flat line. His pride reared up inside him. "We didn't just connect the pieces. We designed them. I designed them."

  
"Well, that's really something." Fred wiped at his forehead. "Hell, my parents were happy when I drew a picture by myself."

  
Number Five placed a hand on Newton's shoulder. He mimicked the voice of a woman on a recent weight loss commercial. "I have you to thank for this stunning figure!"

  
Stephanie laughed.

  
"Do you sell any of their snack products?" Number Five asked her, returning to his usual voice. "They are highly nutritious for humans."

  
She shook her head, smiling fondly. "You watch too much TV. You're hilarious, but you watch too much TV."

  
"Come on, Stephanie. It is informative."

  
"Yeah, if you want to fill your head with phony input."

  
"I hate to be an interruption," Ben cut in, "but, if you are wanting to see the facilities before the workers arrive, we had better move."

  
Fred glanced at his watch. "You got a point there." He strode to the front of the group and kept going. "Follow me. I'll take ya to the first stop on the guided tour."

  
He led them to his office first, the most complete of the bunch, he said, and pointed out the excellent view from his window and a designer lamp that seemed to be more impressive to him than anyone else. He had file cabinets holding records of every employee currently in their workforce as well as order information from all of the companies wanting shipments of their toys. His office was the closest to the font, he explained, so he could keep an eye on the business and people side of things.

  
Ben's office had a lot in common with the one he kept at Nova. It was messily organized with boxes of personal gadgets, some bought, some invented from scratch. A computer was set up in the middle of the floor, taking up the bulk of the room. Ben explained a few things he was working on to Newton, eager to be able to share his projects with someone who would understand the technical jargon and appreciate what he'd achieved, but Newton pretended disinterest.

  
However, he could not suppress the surprise he felt when they came to a third office with "Johnny Five" engraved in a plate beside the door.

  
"You have your own office?"

  
"Naturally," Number Five said. "Am a partner too."

  
Inside, there were books. Shelves and shelves of books, covering all the walls from top to bottom, save for the back one, which appeared to be reserved for pictures. Newton stepped closer to have a look. He remembered helping Number Five install the polaroid camera in his utility pack shortly after they replaced his laser weapon, and many of the photos were familiar.

  
There was one of Stephanie on their porch in Montana, sitting on the steps with Beasley, her three-legged mutt. There was him, a pair of headphone around his neck, smiling beside the mechanical arm he was programming to play the keyboard, its flexible fingers suspended in a wave. There was the three of them crowded together, a shot taken by a curious neighbor when they first moved in. And there was golden Number Five, arm in arm with Ben, standing proudly beside the Input Incorporated sign.

  
"I hoped the shelves would give him plenty of space for his input, but, no sooner am I putting them in, then he has filled them up already."

  
Newton felt like a first-class jerk. He faced Ben, looking between him and Number Five. "That's really nice, Ben. Johnny, you hung all these yourself?"

  
"Yep. The office was lonely. I want to see my family while at work."

  
_His family?_

  
"Aww." Stephanie came closer to them, talking about the photos they had around their cabin. She had taken and framed dozens from her traditional camera.

  
Newton raked his fingers through his hair. It had been two years since he accepted that Number Five was alive, but he was still struggling to fully understand what that meant. He spent his whole life designing machines. The scientist in him still considered Number Five to be his creation, his property, and what right did Ben and this Fred guy have to profit off of his invention without even asking or offering him a cut?  
But he couldn't take credit for Number Five. There was nothing in his programming that enabled the robot to cherish memories or comprehend the concept of family. All Newton really owned was the exterior—wire and lights and tubes.

  
It was an important distinction to make. It just wasn't an easy one to remember.

  
"Now we're getting to the real meat of the place," Fred said, guiding them away from the office to the area where the toys were made.

  
Once they were surrounded by equipment, Ben took the lead. It was nothing like what was needed to build the full scale S.A.I.N.T. robots, but it was massive, especially knowing that only months ago, the toys were being assembled in the back of a retired Nova van. Newton tried to be more enthusiastic and asked questions as fast as they occurred to him. While Fred was busy talking to Stephanie, he asked one of his most pressing questions: why toys?

  
"Don't get me wrong, Ben. This is all great. This is fantastic, but we worked together for years. I know what you're capable of."

  
"Ah, yes." Ben fiddled with the switches on one of the conveyer belts, frowning when it wouldn't turn on. "I suppose, after what happened at Nova, I was… afraid. I wanted to find something that would allow me to go on carrying our work without chasing the risk of it being used for incorrect purposes."

  
Newton wasn't sure what to say to that. He knew he would never be able to be content making what amounted to little more than brainless remote control cars, but at least Ben had found something to do after they were fired.

  
There was a quick series of beeps from somewhere behind him. He looked at the others, the sound reminding him, weirdly, of a walkie-talkie. The conveyer belt Ben was still wrestling with buzzed into action, and he put two and two together as the remote control on top of Number Five's head stilled and lowered back down.

  
"Oh, thank you, friend."

  
"Anytime, Benjamin."

  
"See the nice thing about having him around is we never have to hire a repairman." Fred grinned at Number Five, then looked toward the sound of the door opening.

  
A young kid in uniform started to walk in and stopped short when she saw them.

  
"Well, good morning! You're a little early, aren't you?" Fred asked. "Not that I'm one to complain about a little extra enthusiasm."

  
"I—I don't think so, Mr. Ritter."

  
Fred glanced at the clock on the wall. "Sheesh! Is it that late already?"

  
"Good golly." Ben motioned for Newton and Number Five to follow him. "We are going to miss our own talk."

  
They just made it outside when Stephanie came barreling after them.

  
"Hey, bozos!"

  
Newton stopped, appreciating the way her skirt blew out to expose her legs as she ran. She was wearing short boots. Her arms swung at her sides, propelling her forward as her hands punched in and out of the sun. She would have been beautiful, if it weren't for the scowl on her face.

  
"You are not leaving me here alone with that creep."

  
"What creep?" Ben's brow lowered in confusion. "Are you describing Fred?"

  
"Yeah, I'm sorry, but I know slimy when I see it. He reminds me of my old boyfriend."

  
At the word "boyfriend," Newton was ready to take her away anywhere she wanted to go. "Oh, well, maybe you're right. You shouldn't stay here."

  
She rolled her eyes. "That was _not_ a flattering comparison. Ask Johnny. He met Frank."

  
He turned. "Johnny?"

  
"Frank: mutation, sick, son of a bitch."

  
Stephanie spread her hands as if to say there you have it. "Thank you."

  
"But, Stephanie," Number Five said, "Frederick is nothing like Frank. Their names might sound similar, but Frederick is a good person. Deep down."

  
"You probably believe that about everybody."

  
She said it in an admiring way, but Number Five nearly snapped at her.

  
"No. Do not believe that. Some that seem good are bad." The mechanisms supporting his head made a whining sound as he looked down. "Need to learn to tell the difference."

  
"Oh, Johnny, anyone can have a hard time with that. Why do you think I started dating Frank in the first place?" She hugged him. "If those crooks weren't in jail, I'd kill them for hurting you." She pulled back. "What makes you so sure about Fred?"

  
"He fixed me. He was the one that found me after Oscar left. Saved my life."

  
" _He_ saved your life? I thought Ben fixed you."

  
"He did, but Fred helped first."

  
"Well…" Stephanie peered over her shoulder at the building. "I guess we should thank him. But that doesn't mean I want to stay."

  
Ben started walking again, rushing forward. "Then let us be going before the occasion passes us by."

  
Newton followed him and Number Five, Stephanie at his side, as they hurried down the sidewalk. The sights and smells of the city assaulted them at every turn. Some of the nicer areas made him wish they could have gone sightseeing with Number Five instead. There were fountains, and magnificent skyscrapers, and elaborate shop windows that showcased everything from fresh bread to t-shirt souvenirs. Even the graffiti he saw was interesting—much of it more like art than vandalism. They ran past street vendors, their carts submerging them momentarily in the mouthwatering scents of hotdogs and crepes.

  
Cars either raced by on the street, or sat frozen in a block of other vehicles, drivers glaring out their windows as they continued on uninterrupted. And everyone pounded on their horns constantly, sometimes before traffic lights even had the chance to turn green. Number Five offered to grab them a cab when a few got close, but Ben assured him they would make better time on foot, even those of them who could not travel thirty miles per hour unassisted.

  
The Hall of Science came into view. The sight of its rounded front seemed to inspire everyone to move faster, and their reflections shone in the many windows and became more focused the nearer they came to the entrance.

  
Just as Ben was about to reach the door, a man in a black suit came around the building to intercept him. He had thinning gray hair parted to the side, wire glasses, and fidgeted more than a skittish rabbit. Before he even saw his face, Newton's stomach started doing gymnastics.

  
Doctor Howard Marner stared at Number Five in disbelief. He scanned over the rest of the group and locked eyes with Newton.

  
"Crosby," he said, his voice rising with every word, "what the hell is this?"


	3. Chapter 3

"Oh..." Newton's gaze fled down to the pivot wheel behind Number Five's treads as if it was in need of immediate attention. "Hi, Howard."

"Dr. Marner, you have come all the long way to this city to hear our little talk?" Ben choked out an unconvincing laugh. "You honor us, sir."

"Well, I wouldn't call making the international news a little thing. I would have expected to be organizing a presentation of our robot myself, as I believe was stated in our contract."

"We'll save you a seat!" Newton took a firm hold of Stephanie's arm, urging her through the doors. He could tell by her face that she was about to snap. He gave Number Five what he hoped was a reassuring look. "Got to get inside. I—I'm sure they're waiting for you."

They were waiting, alright. The speed with which the staff whisked them away from the entrance and up onto a platform was both a blessing and a curse. Howard was lost in the rush, safely buried in the audience, but there was no chance to catch a breath—no chance to plan a speedy exit. Most frightening of all, at least as far as Newton was concerned, was that there was no time for him to persuade anyone that he really, really did not belong on that platform in front of all those people.

The crowd grew before his terrified eyes. Children began to file in, sitting cross-legged on pieces of carpet in front of the chairs which should have made up the first row. It was like they were closing in on him, and the floor seemed to tilt beneath his feet. A cold sweat broke out across his forehead. "If they make me say anything," he muttered, "I'm gonna be sick."

Stephanie was standing to his right, and she reached over to rub his back, tracing slow, soothing circles along his shirt.

"Test. Test." One of the women with the museum raised her arms to the audience, speaking into a microphone. The room began to quiet down. When it was almost silent, she continued, "Okay, I think we're ready to begin." She passed the microphone up to another woman waiting on the platform.

"We at NYSCI are so excited to welcome Mr. Johnny Five and his friends here to speak with us today. I think any of us who have picked up a magazine, turned on the television, or been lucky enough to pass him on the street can agree that he is a truly remarkable invention and individual. Yesterday, he made history in the scientific community, and the world, by becoming the first ever robotic citizen."

The audience broke into applause. Newton focused on a poster mounted above their heads on the back wall.

"And so, without further ado, I'll hand you over to the incredible Mr. Five!"

The clapping grew more enthusiastic. The microphone was passed to Number Five, and the sight of it clutched in his mechanical hands was so ridiculous, Newton struggled not to burst out laughing. It seemed like a better antidote to nerves than picturing the entire crowd in their underwear, but the image, unfortunately, did not last long enough to cure him completely. Number Five shook his head and handed the mic over to Ben. He didn't need its help to be heard in the back.

"Buenos dias! God dag! Dorood!" Number Five paused. When there was no response, he added, "Hi, everybody!"

Most everyone said hello back, but not all in the same way or at the same time. The result was a distorted answer that sounded like it stemmed from an angry mob. Newton wiped his hands on his pant legs and tried to convince himself the army was not disguised somewhere in the throng sharpening pitchforks.

"Wow, look at you all. Going to need a bigger set of eyes to see this many humans." His eyes extended out, he played back a boing sound effect from a cartoon to accent the change, and one of the little girls in the front jumped. "The better to see you with, my dear!"

She peered at the kids around her, joining in when they laughed.

"Do you have any questions for me? Anything you are wondering, want to explore, need to get off your chest?"

She tugged at the purple scrunchy in her hair and shook her head.

A boy's hand shot up. "I do! Um... how old are you?"

"How old are you?"

"Seven."

"Seven! You have been alive much longer than me." Number Five turned to the side and raised his volume a bit. "I have been alive for two years, eight months, seventeen days, four hours, twenty minutes, and three seconds."

The kids continued to ask questions. They wanted to know everything from how much Number Five weighed to if he could run faster than a race car. There was nothing like watching their eyes widen and mouths pop open in awe. Their parents were grinning, experiencing the same sense of wonder as their children. A sensation of warmth spread through Newton's chest. The S.A.I.N.T. robots started as an idea to help married couples who were struggling, to bring people together, and this was the closest he'd ever gotten to seeing his dream realized.

Eventually the museum staff set up another microphone to be passed among the adults in the chairs. The conversation grew more serious.

"When did you realize you were more than just a machine?"

"What does life mean to you?"

"How were you built?"

Number Five introduced Ben, Stephanie, and Newton when they began to ask things he thought they could answer better, though Newton was grateful to pass the mic from Ben to Stephanie without having to do any talking himself. Ben handled the inquiries into the robot's initial construction while carefully skirting around any specific details about his original purpose or the company responsible for his assembly. Stephanie answered things having to do with Number Five's personality—what it was like to interact with him, how he learned, and how she taught him about life. Her responses were brief and evasive. They were discussing what was supposed to be secret, but Number Five's candidness and obvious enjoyment of the crowd seemed to prod her into being more open.

Newton was convinced Howard's sudden appearance hadn't phased Number Five at all, and then someone asked him how it felt to be recognized as an American citizen.

"Feels... like freedom." He turned from the person who asked the question to stare intently at something on the other side of the room. "Can prove am not property. Can seek legal protection if in danger. I own me."

Newton followed his gaze right to Howard's seat. His old boss was sitting at the end of the third row, his hands clenched on a briefcase he kept rigidly suspended in front of his knees. There was a skeptical lift to his brow as he stared back at Number Five, an unspoken challenge. The blood drained from Newton's face.

Catching Newton's eyes on him, Howard suddenly raised his hand. The microphone was passed over to him.

"If I can just ask something of Dr. Crosby..."

Ben glanced fearfully at Newton. He fiddled with the mic, ready to pretend there was a technical issue if need be.

Newton shook his head, trying to ignore how it made the room spin. He held his hand out for the mic, and his fingers were shaking. When he took it in his grasp, the cord seemed like a black snake coiling around his feet. "Go ahead."

"What do you think it was about this particular robot that allowed it to come alive?"

"That's... um..." His mouth started to water. He swallowed. It only made the nausea worse. "That's tough to say, really."

"Do you think it could happen again?"

His stomach clenched. He shoved the mic into Stephanie's hand and bolted off the platform, searching desperately for the bathrooms. It was a short sprint. Otherwise, he wouldn't have made it in time. He didn't stop until he was hunched over and kneeling, a pathetic, heaving mess with his head in the toilet.

The convulsions sent his head throbbing. When it was all over, he leaned his temple against the cool porcelain, too spent to be bothered by the potential masses of bacteria in close proximity to his face. He sucked in lungfuls of air. It smelled of stale cigarette smoke, but at least it was cool. Behind closed eyes, his heartbeat returned to normal and his headache eased.

It was good to be alone.

At length, he got to this feet and left the stall. The sinks looked clean enough, runny pink soap trickling off the counter notwithstanding. He washed his hands in warm water and splashed some cold into his eyes. They looked slightly bloodshot in the mirror mounted on the wall in front of him. In fact, his entire reflection seemed haggard, lost somehow.

There was a tap on the restroom door.

Ben poked his head in. "Newton?" Seeing him at the sink, he came the rest of the way inside. "Have you finished up-chucking your breakfast?"

"Yeah." He grabbed a paper towel from the dispenser, tearing it loose with excessive force. "Sorry about that."

"There is no need for apologies. Dr. Marner would be making me vomit faster than he can say 'stat.'"

He laughed. "I thought we'd be lucky enough to never hear that word again." His gaze dropped to the crinkled towel, expression sobering. "Did he ask anything else?"

"No. Once you are leaving the stage, the people in charge concluded the conversation. I am thinking they did not want to stoke the fire of a controversy."

"Good. That's good, I guess. I hate to say I told you so, Ben, but I told you they would come for him. I don't get why you couldn't just keep him a secret like we asked."

"You are blaming me, is that it?" Ben huffed, spreading his hands out in front of him. "I am not understanding what you wanted for me to do. I could not hold Number Johnny Five indoors as prisoner-"

"Hold on a second. No one said anything about imprisoning him."

"And that is a fortunate thing because the man who is trying to do that would be in a difficult pickle, most certainly! After he has chased down the thieves, the press came down like flies. There was no way to make them forget a man-sized, crime-fighting robot."

Newton sighed. He had a point.

"I know Fred is a business greedy-type person, but perhaps all of the publicity has made Number Johnny Five safer, hmm?" Ben's voice got quiet, softer. "The world will miss him now if he is gone."

Newton nodded, but it was a reluctant gesture. "I hope you're right." He turned away and started for the door. "Come on. Let's see if we can make it out of here without any trouble."

He had barely set foot outside of the bathroom when he heard a child's piercing shriek. He lunged around the corner, fearing the worst for reasons he couldn't seem to articulate even in his thoughts. It wasn't like he considered Howard capable of hurting an innocent kid, but—but when did Howard ever work alone?

The kid's screams dissolved into laughter. He saw two young boys playing with giant blue building blocks, constructing a fort around themselves. One the boys had evidently just fallen out. Their father stood nearby, scolding him for being so loud.

"Is everything okay?" Newton still had to ask.

The boy got up and picked up a cylindrical block. He raised his arm with the clear intention of throwing it at his dad.

"Don't you dare, Anthony! If you throw that block, we're going home right now. Understand?"

Anthony dropped the block. "Sorry."

As he went back to playing, the father turned Newton's way. "He's fine. Thanks for your concern, bro." He shrugged. "Kids. You never know what they're going to do."

Newton spotted Number Five lingering over some plaques by the entrance on the first floor. "Tell me about it." He motioned to Ben and continued in the direction of what looked like a wall of streamers.

Coming in, the mad rush to get them on the platform and ready to speak had rendered all of the exhibits around them invisible. He couldn't even remember the long neon pink and orange strips hanging from the enormous rounded ceiling, though he knew he must have passed them. The early afternoon sun projected the shape of the surrounding windows onto the streamers—tape, he realized—and the individual strips broke up the light into diagonal fragments.

"I'm going to need a word with you."

Newton was making his way down a winding staircase, focusing on the display rather than the people around him, and the sudden comment came as a shock. He looked up to find Howard rushing up the stairs, only stopping when they were about level with each other.

Newton kept going, ignoring him.

Howard followed. "Crosby, this isn't a joke."

Newton searched for Ben, but he couldn't pick him out of the crowd. He walked faster. The rectangles of light on the exhibit seemed to move with him, dropping lower out of the corner of his eye as he strode forward.

"Damn it, stop! You owe me an explanation!"

He threw a glare over his shoulder. "I don't owe you. I'm fired, remember?"

"I heard that thing explode! I watched Skroeder's men carry off the pieces. Tell me that has got to be a different robot."

The image of Skroeder's men swarming over the supposed remains of Number Five, cheering and playing with them as if they were pieces of a junked car, was forever burned into his memory. He kept his lips sealed at first, but bitterness ate at his throat like acid and something had to escape. "Skroeder's just going to have to accept he's not the smartest war machine Nova ever created."

"Skroeder's gone."

Newton froze.

"He was more than happy to see years of hard work and research blown to smithereens. That's not what we're about, so I had to let him go."

Slowly, Newton turned to face him. He noticed for the first time how old Howard looked. His cheeks seemed hollow, and the wrinkles on his forehead were deep and in much greater quantity than when he saw him last. Two years appeared to have aged him ten. "What do you want, Howard? What are you really doing here?"

"I'm offering you your job back. You can have your old office, the same salary. It'll be like you never left."

There was a tiny pop as Newton's mouth came open. For a moment, he just stared, thinking of Stephanie and all of her foster animals—ones that often needed veterinary care and many that would never find another home. Their cabin was crying out for attention, and so was their land, and they were getting perilously close to losing everything. He shifted forward, feeling the lightness of his wallet in his back pocket, but the thoughts that made the return of a very generous and reliable salary most tempting also made it impossible to accept. He knew what Stephanie would want. Number Five too.

"No. No, thanks. I appreciate it, but Nova wants weapons. That's not what I'm about."

"Well, I can certainly understand that. I know we've had our... creative differences in the past."

"Really?" Newton shook his head. If Howard was going to make this easy, he wasn't going to object. "So, good. It's settled, then. I should be getting back."

"Wait!" Howard snapped, attracting some curious glances. He looked around at the crowded room, laughed self-consciously, and drew closer to Newton. He lowered his voice. "We don't work with that section of the military anymore. After that giant disaster? The loss of millions of dollars?" His arm jerked forward, slapping his briefcase against his leg. "They don't want anything to do with us."

Newton watched him, shifting away. "I'd say I'm sorry, but-"

"But that's okay. That's given us the opportunity to go in another direction. Do you know what's bringing in the most profit these days? Guess."

"Uh..."

He patted Newton's back. "You'll never guess! Those goofy little server bots you whipped up to carry around cocktails and canapes at our events. Everyone wants them. We've sent them out to wedding receptions, for Christ's sake."

"Yeah, wow. That's unexpected."

"The bottom line is your publicity parade with the robot is changing the way ordinary people look at them. We've done polls, spoken to families with children who own those knock-off toys, and, Crosby, you may be building yourself the market for civilian use you've always wanted. If you think Number Five is alive-"

"He is alive."

"Alright. Well, that is a major breakthrough." Howard guided Newton over to some railing and rested his briefcase against it to open it. He reached inside and handed over a small piece of paper with the name, address, and phone number of a hotel on it. "We're both scientists. I am offering you the resources and equipment to discover how we created a sentient machine. Aren't you dying to explain that?"

"I guess I am... somewhat... curious." That was a huge understatement, but Newton was eying the other documents in Howard's briefcase, and he didn't like what he saw.

"Well," Howard smiled tightly, "just think about it and give me a call tomorrow. I'm staying for the next three days. I'd like to see Number Five during that time." He snapped the briefcase closed and started to walk away.

Newton stepped after him. "If I don't cooperate, you're going to sue me, aren't you? That's why you brought the contracts?"

"I brought the contracts in the hope that you will sign them. The old ones are only there for comparison, but I can see why you're worried. With the patents we have, a lawsuit certainly wouldn't end well for you."

Newton held the slip of paper between his fingers, feeling the deep gauges left from Howard's pen. He pulled out his wallet and tucked it in the empty billfold. It sat heavy in his pocket as he rejoined his friends.


End file.
